


The Importance of Withholding Information

by Ely_Baby



Series: The Blossom and the Dragon [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Secrets, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely_Baby/pseuds/Ely_Baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorpius has something to ask to Pansy, too bad the woman has the power to turn him into a babbling baboon every time they talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by [QueenBtchoftheUniverse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBtchoftheUniverse).

***

“You are staring at her again.”

Scorpius didn’t turn to look at his wife, but he registered her words and nodded softly, without being able to tear his eyes from his godfather’s wife. “I know,” he murmured. He took a distracted sip from the glass in his hand and sighed.

“If you want to leave me for another woman, can you at least find someone who is younger than me and not older than your own mother?” Rose chuckled.

Scorpius rolled his eyes and finally looked at her. She seemed unable to restrain a grin, as if she thought she had said something extremely witty. “You know,” he commented, smirking, “sometimes you think you are funny, but – and I’m sorry to be the one who has to break the news to you – you are actually not.”

As a reply, Rose stuck out her tongue to him. “I’ll have you know that I’m hilarious,” she told him, tossing her curls behind her ears.

“That’s your father, Rose,” Scorpius corrected her, “and your brother. You are more like your mother.”

His wife pretended to be outraged. “Hey! I’m like my mother when it’s up to being intelligent, not when we talk about being funny,” she quipped.

Scorpius couldn’t help grinning at her. “Right,” he replied softly, “and after all I didn’t marry you for your humour.” He lowered his head to kiss her, and she smiled against his lips.

“But I’m still funny.”

“Like a Weasley Joke Box.” He kissed her again. Her lips were soft and warm and she tasted of chocolate cake.

She looked up at him when he withdrew. “So,” she murmured, glancing at Pansy Zabini, “what’s bothering you?”

Scorpius bit his bottom lip. Glancing quickly at the woman as well, he shook his head softly. “Nothing,” he whispered, trying without succeeding to sound calm.

“Scorpius,” she called him sternly, “come on. You know you can talk to me.”

Scorpius looked back at her with big, troubled eyes. “I don’t want to talk here,” he murmured, looking around at the people laughing and chatting, and at the children running about the garden. “I’ll tell you tonight.”

Rose shook her head, her curly hair whipping her face. “Nonsense,” she replied forcefully, “let’s go to the pond.” She grabbed his hand and started to drag him towards the far end of the garden.

“I don’t think we can leave our son’s Christening party,” he tried to protest. “Actually, where’s our son?” he added, digging his heels in the ground as he noticed that he was not in Rose’s arms as he should have been.

Rose almost tripped over for the sudden stop. “I left him with Albus,” she reassured him, turning to face her husband, “after all he is his godfather, he better gets used to holding him for when he is baby-sitting.”

Scorpius scolded her. “Are you out of your mind? How can you even suggest to leave my son with someone as irresponsible as Albus?”

Rose’s eyebrow arched quizzically. “You chose him as godfather,” she pointed out.

Scorpius looked gruffly at her. “Yes, but I never thought you wanted him to baby-sit.” The very thought of the young, roughneck Potter alone in their flat with his son made him shiver.

She took a deep breath, but a small smile stretched her lips, as if she thought it adorable that he was so unnecessarily worried for their son. “Okay,” she murmured gently, “we’ll ask my parents to baby-sit.”

He smiled a little. “Better,” he conceded.

Rose giggled, before grabbing his hand again. “Let’s go,” she urged, dragging him forward.

The pond was deserted, enveloped in an almost eerie silence. Rose seemed glad it was January, too cold for her cousins to be swimming in there – even with the warming spell that had been cast upon the garden of the Burrow. She guided Scorpius towards what looked like a small, sandy beach and sat gracefully on a little boulder, her blue dress covering her legs as she drew them to her chest and looked as Scorpius sat across from her.

He smiled awkwardly at her. He really didn’t know how to start that conversation. He had been obsessing over his godfather’s wife ever since he had brought her to the Manor, but he had never told that to anybody, not even his wife. He just didn’t know what to say. He picked up a rock and threw it in the pond, staring as it sunk and keeping his eyes stubbornly away from Rose.

“Scorpius,” she called him, her voice almost impatient.

“What?” he asked, eyeing her warily.

She sighed. “Talk to me,” she encouraged him.

Scorpius darkened slightly. “Listen,” he murmured, “it’s just a stupid thing, really…”

“Evidently,” she pointed out, “it’s not stupid if it bothers you this much.” She smiled reassuringly and placed a warm hand on his cheek, caressing his skin with her thumb.

Scorpius shook his head, but placed a hand on Rose’s to keep it in place. “It’s just something that my grandmother said…”

Rose raised her eyebrows. “Since when have you let your grandmother’s words bother you?” she asked gently. “You know that she is—”

“A horrible human being?”

“—not the sweetest witch to have ever walked this earth.”

Scorpius snorted. “Yeah, right,” he quipped. “But no, that’s different. It’s something she said about Blaise’s wife…” He lowered his eyes. “The day I brought her to the Manor… the day my father…” His voice trailed away.  _The day my father died_. He didn’t want to say it though, it had been only a few months and the memory still hurt.

“I know,” Rose hurried to say, her hand still caressing his cheek. “What did she say about her?”

Scorpius took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “A lot of things,” he started, his tone grave, “that she invented a healing potion and that she was awarded an Order of Merlin.”

Rose smiled softly. “Yes, that’s common knowledge, Scorpius. Even Albus knows it, it’s on her Chocolate Frog Card.”

He bit his bottom lip. “Also that she was my father’s slut and that she bore his bastard.” He lowered his eyes and added bitterly, “Bet that’s not on the card…”

Rose’s lips parted in surprise at the confession. Her eyes widened and her hand finally left her husband’s cheek to fall in her lap. For a long moment, she just stared at him, too shocked to even be able to put two sentences together.

Scorpius found her reaction only fitting. He nodded softly. “Shocking, right?” he muttered.

Rose nodded back. “His  _slut_ …?”

He snorted. “Oh no,” he said, “that’s not the shocking part.” He looked away from her, not wanting to stare into her eyes as he kept telling her about his father. Rose’s family was what he considered  _perfect_ , and he knew only too well that his own was not. It pained him to have to confess to her about his father’s behaviour. “He was a regular client of a whorehouse in Knockturn Alley.” He darkened slightly, that was how Draco Malfoy had died, but nobody except Scorpius’ mother, his grandmother and himself knew it. “He stayed at hotels all around the world and had a different girl in his room every night.” He looked back at her. “Remember that summer when I went to Spain with him?”

“Yes,” she replied softly, “I still remember the address of the hotel you were staying at because I sent you so many letters…”

Scorpius nodded. “I walked into his room one night and he was pushing a girl into the mattress,” he muttered, “she was loud and he was brutal and when he finished he told her to get out of there.”

Rose’s hand went to her mouth. Horrified. “Did he see you?”

Scorpius shook his head. “No, but I will never forget it.” He didn’t let his wife say anything, for he didn’t want to hear any soothing comment that wouldn’t have soothed at him at all. “But as I said, that’s not the shocking part.” He looked at Rose, surprised that she hadn’t remarked anything about the other revelation yet. “She said that she bore my father’s bastard.”

Rose looked at him and furrowed her brow. “Yes,” she replied softly, “I know what you are thinking…” She looked past him, towards the Burrow and the crowd of guests which was mostly a mass of redheads. “But it doesn’t look like she has any child at all…”

Scorpius swallowed. “But if she does,” he pointed out forcefully, “that would be my half-brother.”

She sighed. Rose knew that he had always wanted a big family. She knew that he was pining for this piece of information to be true. “Don’t you think Blaise would have told you if she were the mother of your half-brother?”

He shook his head. “Blaise and I don’t talk that much, Rose,” he reminded her darkly.

“But…” Her voice trailed away as she tried to think about what to say to her husband. “Scorpius, don’t you think that we would have known if she had a child? I mean, wouldn’t we have met him at Hogwarts?”

Scorpius’ mouth became a thin line on his face. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I didn’t know every single student back at school,” he replied grimly, “and we don’t even know how old he might be. Maybe he is in school now.”

Rose looked sceptically at him, but when she talked her voice was gentle. “Well, you know what you have to do if you want to know, right?”

Scorpius’ shoulders slumped slightly. He knew and he really didn’t want to. “Send you to ask her if I have a half-brother?” he asked with a soft, hopeful smile.

Rose smiled back. “Oh, but apparently I’m not the only one with a sense of humour here,” she quipped. “You have to talk to her.”

He shook his head. “That’s out of the question,” he replied firmly.

“Why?”

He crossed his arms on his chest. “I’ve tried to talk to her a couple of times and every time I’ve just stuttered out a string of words until Blaise started to laugh at me.”

Rose smiled. “What are you afraid of, Mister Auror?”

He looked at her, outraged. “Nothing!” he snapped. “She is just… she just makes me feel uncomfortable…”

Rose sighed. “Talk to Blaise, then,” she suggested.

From the Burrow came some screams and laughter, and both Rose and Scorpius turned their head to look at the people in the distance. Probably they were wondering where the parents of the baby were. They should have gone back soon, before a searching party was sent out to look for them. That was the problem of having so many Aurors in the family, always trying to save the day, even when the day didn’t want to be saved.

Scorpius stood up from the boulder and helped his wife to her feet. “I can’t talk to Blaise alone, he is always with her…” he pointed out as they made their way back to the party.

When Rose looked at him she narrowed her eyes almost accusatorily. “Do you even read the Daily Prophet at all, Scorpius?” she asked sharply. “And luckily you were the one who wanted to renew the subscription.”

“I read it,” he let her know without fully understanding how that mattered at that very moment.

“Apart from the Quidditch page, I mean,” she quipped. “There was an article the other day about a few important people who are going to speak to the students at Hogwarts next week.”

Scorpius furrowed his brow, still unsure as to how this information would be useful to him at that moment. “I suppose your uncle is going…”

Rose nodded. “And Pansy Zabini is going too,” she let him know, “and she will have to be at Hogwarts for the whole week.”

Finally realisation kicked in, and Scorpius’ eyes widened as a smile appeared on his face and he thought that his wife was amazing. “That means…”

“That Blaise will be at the Estate all by himself for a week,” she replied encouragingly. “You should go and talk to him.”

Scorpius stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath before smiling at Rose and murmuring, “I think I will.” Then he leaned down and he kissed her. He felt happier, it was going to be alright. He would find out the truth.

***

The Estate was a massive villa in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside. It wasn’t as big as the Manor, but it was definitely much brighter and more welcoming, especially now that Scorpius’ former residence was basically in ruin. The garden was immense, filled with flowers and fruit trees and birds. The house was covered in grey bricks and had more chimneys and windows than one might have the patience to count.

Scorpius had been there only a few times when he was a child, always with his father alone, never with his mother. Blaise didn’t like her, and that was one of the things that he had had in common with Draco. Scorpius remembered a Quidditch pitch behind the house, but somehow he couldn’t spot the posts anymore. Probably, since Blaise was now in his fifties and he didn’t have children, he had deemed it unnecessary to keep it.

Scorpius hadn’t been there in a long time though. Of course, Blaise was still his godfather and still sent him money and some presents every year for his birthday and for Christmas, but he seldom saw him. Ever since Scorpius’ eleventh birthday party, when his father punched him for Merlin knew what reason, their relationship deteriorated. He did come to Draco’s funeral though, and Scorpius knew that he had cried before Disapparating with his soon-to-be wife in his arms.

The young man had written to Blaise at the beginning of that week, telling him that he wanted to go and visit him, that it had been far too long and that it had been nice of him to come to his son’s Christening. Rose suggested those words.

Luckily, Blaise replied enthusiastically saying that he was happy to have him for tea, but that maybe he wanted to wait until his wife was back from Hogwarts. She baked the best cakes and served tea impeccably well.

_It’s okay, we’ll have a man to man talk,_  Scorpius had replied. So now he was walking through the opening gates of the Zabini Estate and making his way up to the house.

He looked around himself as he walked. The garden would have made his mother-in-law have a fit, for fairies seemed to roam every angle of it, and Scorpius knew that it was illegal to keep those creatures on a private property. It didn’t matter how beautiful they made the garden.

He stared as one flew over to a tulip and sat gracefully over it, her pixie-like face looking malignantly at him. When a swarm of other little creatures flew in his direction to join their companion, Scorpius thought better to hurry to the house because he knew how sharp their little teeth were.

“Don’t be afraid,” said a woman from behind him, “if they bite you, you just swat one of them with your hand and the others fly away in fear.”

Scorpius swallowed, not too keen on killing a fairy. He turned to look at the woman. She was tall, beautiful despite her old age, and dressed in a delightful green dress with a garden hat on her head. “Good morning, Mrs Zabini,” he greeted her politely, “I’m glad to see you’re well.”

She smiled gently and batted her eyelashes. “Thank you, Scorpius dear,” she replied. “My son is waiting for you in the sunroom. He was so very excited when you said that you were coming.”

Scorpius smiled back, glad that Blaise was looking forward to their meeting. “And the sunroom is…”

“Oh, just follow the house-elf that opens the door,” she replied gently, before bending over to tend to some red roses.

Scorpius nodded and thanked her. He turned and kept walking towards the house.

“I hope you like pickles,” she called after him.

He smiled, but didn’t reply. The sun was nice and quite warm despite that they were still in the middle of winter, but as Scorpius walked past the orchard, he suspected that the whole place was enchanted, for cherries and pears shouldn’t be growing at that time of year like they were doing there.

He knocked firmly on the door and before he could even withdraw his hand, it swung open, and a small house-elf with bulging blue eyes beamed at him. “Master Malfoy!” he squeaked. “Master Zabini awaits you!”

The creature let Scorpius in before closing the door at his back and walking quickly through the hall. Scorpius followed him into a long corridor and past a few open doors.

The Estate was different from what Scorpius remembered. It looked almost more cheerful than before – and when he was only a child Scorpius had thought it extremely cheerful compared to the Manor – with flowers in every corner and colourful pieces of furniture from all over the world. It also looked brighter than before and warmer than he could ever remember.

“Finally,” Blaise greeted him as the house-elf led Scorpius into a big room with windows that went from the floor to the ceiling, “I was starting to think that you got lost in the garden.” His godfather was standing near a window overlooking a colourful rose garden with a little pond in the middle. He walked towards Scorpius and placed his hands over his shoulders. “So good to see you, Scorpius,” he said, smiling.

Scorpius grinned at him and nodded. “It’s good to see you too, Blaise,” he replied.

Blaise cocked his head. “Look at you,” he beamed, patting his hands on his shoulders, “you grew up so much.”

Scorpius frowned slightly. “You saw me last week at the Christening.”

The tall man laughed. “Right,” he agreed, letting him go and moving to sit on an armchair near the extinguished fireplace, “please sit wherever you like.” He nodded towards a couch. “Not on Nightshade, though, or Pansy will bake you in one of her cakes.”

Scorpius turned his head to look at the couch and saw an old black cat curled on it. The animal raised his weary head when Blaise said his name and yawned tiredly before going back to sleep, his white whiskers shaking as he did.

“Tea and sandwiches and scones and biscuits, Tally,” Blaise ordered as Scorpius sat on an armchair opposite to him. “And don’t bring my mother’s Assam or some other inedible crap of hers, we want Earl Grey.” He looked at Scorpius. “Don’t we?”

Scorpius nodded, even though he really couldn’t have cared less what kind of tea he was served.

The house-elf nodded contentedly and disappeared from the sunroom with a pop, leaving the two men alone for only a fraction of a second before she reappeared with a tray filled with a teapot and two cups, scones and biscuits and a plate of sandwiches balanced between her ears.

“Good,” grinned Blaise appreciatively as he poured himself a cup of tea, “we have cheese and pickles, sardines, and cucumber sandwiches.” He offered the plate with the biscuits to Scorpius as he grabbed one himself. “But you have to try these, Pansy baked them before she left, they are delicious.”

Scorpius thanked him politely as he took a biscuit. He grabbed a bite while he slid his cup of tea closer to him. It was delicious, charmed to be warm inside and with big chunks of chocolate that melted in his mouth.

“Good, isn’t it?” asked Blaise, smiling. “She made me a whole batch before she left.” He chuckled. “I almost finished them.”

Scorpius frowned. “I thought she left yesterday,” he pointed out, surprised.

“She did,” confirmed Blaise, taking another biscuit, “and I miss her. This is nervous eating.”

The younger man smiled and sipped some tea. He had never heard his godfather talking like that before. And he had never seen him with anybody at all, he had always assumed that he was either not interested in women or unwilling to settle. Now he seemed simply happy, as if he had finally found that someone who completed him.

“Isn’t your mother joining us?” asked Scorpius as Blaise got started on the third biscuit.

“She doesn’t like this kind of tea,” Blaise quipped, “she is more the Assam with a couple of Digestives type of person.” He gestured to the coffee table. “This is too heavy for her at her age.”

Scorpius nodded knowingly. After all, his grandmother wouldn’t have eaten anything from that table as well. “She looks well.”

Blaise snorted. “She is feeling better than me,” he agreed gruffly, “she gets younger and younger every year. I was waiting for her to be pushing up daisies so that I could move into the master bedroom with Pansy, but I think that she will bury me sooner or later.” He sighed. “Do you know what she said when I got married?”

Scorpius shook his head, a soft smile of anticipation stretching his lips.

“She said,  _Oh, I’m so happy you are here, Pansy dear, it was getting so boring in this house with that old mummy of Blaise_!” He shook his head darkly. “As if I was the old mummy here!”

Scorpius chuckled in amusement. “Poor Godfather,” he quipped. “So do they get along?”

“Who? Pansy and my mother?” he asked with his mouth full with the fifth biscuit.

Scorpius nodded, taking a sandwich and nibbling lightly at it.

“They adore each other,” he replied, putting down his cup of tea, “which is not always a good thing, especially when they team up against me.” He looked furtively around himself before lowering his voice and adding, “The other day, for example, we had lunch at four in the afternoon because they were too busy pruning the hydrangeas.” He shook his head. “Bloody hell! I was starving!”

The younger wizard couldn’t help laughing at his godfather, but Blaise laughed too, so he knew he wasn’t doing something too disrespectful.

“And how’s baby Draco?” asked Blaise, finally managing to pour himself another cup of tea after having been shaken by laughter.

Scorpius smiled more brightly now. “He is brilliant,” he replied, thinking about his son, “and he is growing up so quickly. One day he is learning how to smile and the next he is sitting by himself already.”

Blaise nodded, something close to melancholy in his eyes. “I’m sure he is,” he commented quietly. “You should bring him here sometimes. We put up a nice gazebo in the backyard in the summer and we can all chill and have dinner outside.”

“That sounds great,” exclaimed Scorpius, happy that he seemed to want to rekindle their friendship. “I’ll tell Rose.”

“Good,” replied Blaise, before putting the cup back down and leaning against the back of the armchair, “now, I think it would be nice if you told me the reason of your visit, wouldn’t it, Scorpius?”

Scorpius’ eyes widened. He had almost forgotten about the real reason behind his visit to his godfather. Almost, not quite, but he had hoped he would have more time to talk about anything else but that. He would have liked to nonchalantly introduce the matter as if he only just remembered his grandmother’s words. “I just… wanted to see you, Blaise…” he murmured, but he was well aware of how unconvincing his tone was.

Blaise cocked his head. “Yes,” he quipped, “and I’m the one who commands in this house.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “I haven’t seen you in years and all of a sudden you come to visit.” He smiled amusedly. “I hardly think you are looking for parenting tips from me, and I don’t reckon that this is about your father either, is it?”

Scorpius took a deep breath and placed his cup on the table. He was nervous. Not nervous for having to ask his godfather if his wife was perhaps the mother of his half-brother, but nervous because of the answer he might have gotten from him. Did he have a half-brother? What was his name? Where was he? Could he have met him? Why had they never told him about him? Merlin! He had so many questions, he just hoped that his godfather didn’t look indignantly at him and kick him out of his house for them.

“Scorpius?” Blaise called him gently.

Scorpius looked at him in the eyes, trying to muster all his courage. He wished Rose was there with him at that moment. “Yes,” he murmured, “right… I’ve got something to ask you…”

Blaise scratched his nose. “Go on, then,” he encouraged him gently, “but speak up because I think I’m becoming a bit deaf…”

Scorpius nodded softly, biting his bottom lip. “It’s just something that my grandmother said about… about your wife…”

All of a sudden, at the mention of his grandmother, Blaise’s dark eyes became two slits and when he spoke his voice iced over, “And what would that be, pray tell?”

Scorpius felt the urge to paraphrase his grandmother’s words. “She said that she had my father’s child,” he finally let out, “and that they were in some kind of relationship…”

Blaise observed his godson for long, interminable seconds, but when he replied he sounded calm, “And what is it that you want to ask me?” His face too, seemed more relaxed than when he was waiting to know what Narcissa had said.

“Just…” Scorpius’ words trailed away. He had tried that discourse in his head for a week and he had always sounded so firm and calm, unlike that very moment when his voice quivered as if he was a first year Hufflepuff lost in the Forbidden Forest. “Just if it’s the truth…”

His godfather replied much faster than he had expected. “It is,” he admitted softly.

Scorpius’ jaw dropped. Even though he had hoped for that answer he was just too surprised to put together a few words to reply to Blaise. He had to pour himself some more tea and down the boiling hot beverage before managing to speak again. “So,” he croaked throatily, “do I have a brother?”

Strangely, Blaise seemed surprised at his question and Scorpius couldn’t imagine why. Wouldn’t that be the next sensible thing to ask? “No,” he replied simply, stressing the syllable by shaking his head.

Scorpius’ shoulders slumped forward as delusion painted his face. “But you said that she gave birth to my father’s—”

“I know what I said,” replied Blaise firmly, “and it’s not a lie. But you don’t have a brother, Scorpius.” He took a deep breath. “Pansy’s child died the day she gave birth to him.”

“Oh,” was all Scorpius could reply. “What happened?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think my wife would like me to tell you,” he replied gently, “but you can come here next week and see if she will grace you with more information about the matter.”

Scorpius felt sick at the very suggestion of asking those same things to Pansy Zabini. She was not unkind to him, she just looked at him with those dark eyes that seemed to contain secrets that he would have never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams, and they made him feel extremely uncomfortable. “No, it’s okay,” he muttered.

“Shall  _I_  ask her if she wants to talk to you?” demanded Blaise softly.

“No!” replied Scorpius forcefully. “It’s okay, Blaise, really.” He smiled softly. “I just would have liked to have a brother.”

Blaise nodded. “Me too, you know,” he replied brightly, “someone to play Quidditch with in the backyard or to tie upside down on a tree branch…”

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. That was not exactly what he was thinking, but that was okay… “I think I should go now,” he murmured, brushing off crumbles from his trousers. “Rose is cooking lasagne tonight.”

“Delicious,” commented Blaise with a grin. “So, you’ll tell her about the invitation for next summer, won’t you?”

He nodded, even though at that moment the very thought of accepting the invitation and seeing Pansy Zabini made his legs turn like jelly. He stood up and Blaise with him. “Thank you, Blaise,” he smiled, as his godfather hugged him and patted his back.

“No problem,” he replied gently, “can you tell my mother that I’m not going to wait for her for dinner if she is not in the house at six?”

Scorpius nodded and grinned, he followed the house-elf, which had just appeared in the sunroom, back to the entrance. As he walked towards the door, though, he felt like something was missing, as if his questions had been answered – quite curtly indeed though – but despite that, he had new questions arising in his head. What happened to the baby? What happened to his brother? Had Pansy Zabini had a stillbirth? Strangely enough, Scorpius didn’t think so, he thought that Blaise wouldn’t have had any problems telling him if she had. Scorpius sighed in the knowledge that he wouldn’t manage to stay away from that woman. That even if he didn’t want to talk to her at all, he would be back in that house to ask her more things.


	2. Chapter 2

***

> _Hello my dear muffin,_
> 
> _Yes, don’t roll your eyes, I can see you. It’s not my fault if you left me here for a whole week and I miss you, and you know that when I miss you I feel the urge to write this lovey-dovey stuff to you. So don’t get angry with me, for it’s not my fault!_
> 
> _Scorpius came over for tea today. He was absolutely smitten with your biscuits, he finished them all – are you sure you haven’t left another batch somewhere in the house? He is a polite young fellow, and he looks so much like Draco I thought I was sitting with him at some point. You were right, by the way, he came to ask exactly what you thought he would ask. He was very uncomfortable, you would have enjoyed the scene a lot._
> 
> _I told him that yes, you had his father’s child, but that he didn’t have a brother. I didn’t tell him anything else, I said that he could ask you if he wanted, but that I didn’t know if you’d reply to him. I hope that’s okay. I hardly think he’ll come back anyway. I reckon he is slightly intimidated by you._
> 
> _Hope the meetings are going well at Hogwarts. I was thinking that I might come for the weekend and we could stay at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade and do some shopping (did I just say the magic word?). What do you think?_
> 
> _I miss you, my dear wife (how I love to write this word to you)._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Blaise_

***

Pansy was not as surprised as Blaise when she received a letter from Scorpius, and she was not as shocked as him when he came to see her a week later. She had seen his face in the drawing room at the Manor when Narcissa said those things to her. She remembered how upset he had looked as his grandmother told him that that woman in front of them was the cause of their ruin and the mother of his father’s child, as well as his slut.

That old lady was in need of being cast under a permanent Silencing Charm, and Pansy would have loved to be the one to cast it upon her. But as long as she didn’t bother her, Pansy could forget about the witch without too many difficulties.

“I think the gates opened,” announced Blaise, walking into the conservatory.

Pansy looked up from the plant of Dittany that she was watering. “Thank you, Blaise.” She brushed her fringe from her eyes. “I reckon I’ll receive him in here,” she murmured softly, “I still have so much to do before spring.” She touched a leaf of an orchid almost affectionately.

Blaise nodded thoughtfully. “Shall I order the house-elves to brew some tea?”

Pansy smiled warmly. “That’s a wonderful idea, Blaise.”

He grinned at her, before Pansy returned her eyes to the plant. She heard Blaise’s steps exiting the conservatory and then dying out in the hallway. She wondered if she would be able to take care of all the plants that she needed for her potions while the temperatures outside were so frigid. Of course, Mrs Zabini’s charm on the garden was protecting most of them, but she still needed to pot some and harvest some others that she needed to brew some concoctions.

Tally interrupted her train of thoughts with a loud squeak. “Master Malfoy is here to speak with Mistress Zabini,” she squealed excitedly, her big, round eyes blinking.

Pansy smiled. “Good,” she replied as the house-elf disappeared from the conservatory. She looked up and saw that Scorpius was looking down at her with an anxious expression over his face, as if he would have rather wanted to talk to a troll than her. Blaise was right, he seemed intimidated by her, and he was right also because he looked so much like Draco it almost made her heart ache.

She had to look away from him if she wanted to be able to speak without letting her voice quiver. “Can you pass me that pot over there, Scorpius?” she asked evenly. “The empty one, please. I need to bed the Venomous Tentacula before spring, otherwise its juice will be useless next summer.”

Silent and diligent like a first-year student, Scorpius handed her the pot. “That’s a class C non-tradeable,” he pointed out mechanically.

Pansy looked up at the young man who was now hovering over her. “I know,” she let him know sweetly, “extremely rare and expensive. That’s why Blaise got a whole plant for me.”

Scorpius nodded and swallowed. He seemed particularly uncomfortable to be there with her alone, and Pansy delighted in that thought. She loved to make people uncomfortable.

She wetted her lips and smiled softly. “Blaise said you liked my biscuits,” she told him gently, “I made a fresh batch this morning.”

He nodded again. Apparently, he still seemed to have problems formulating any sentence at all, because Pansy was doing all the talking. In her delight at his discomfort, she found the thing vaguely irritating. She would have wanted the conversation to be over quickly, but it hadn’t even started and it didn’t seem it would any time soon if she didn’t take the matter into her own hands.

“Is there a reason why you are here, Scorpius?” she asked softly, lowering her eyes back to the plant. “Or did you just want more biscuits?”

She could hear him swallow again, his mouth must have been dry by now. Then he straightened up his back and whispered faintly, “There’s something I need to ask you, Mrs Zabini.”

Pansy looked at him and stood up as well. He stretched a hand towards her to help her to her feet, and she took it. “Call me Pansy,” she replied, “Mrs Zabini is my mother-in-law.” She pushed the pot with the Venomous Tentacula towards a window and added, “Come.” She guided him towards a corner near the far end of the conservatory where there were a couple of wicker chairs and a table covered in magazines and books. She gestured to him to sit across from her as she sat as well.

He gave her a small, awkward smile before lowering his eyes on his fidgeting hands. Still, he was quiet.

Pansy tilted her head, amused. He didn’t remind her of his father anymore. Draco was cocky, smug and talkative, especially with her. This boy was shy and looked at her almost reverentially. She wondered how Draco managed to bring him up like that. “I’m not good at Legilimency,” she confessed softly.

He smiled again and finally looked at her. “Blaise said…” his shaky voice trailed away as he was surely searching for the words to express himself. “I mean, my grandmother said that you had my father’s child,” he corrected himself.

Even though she was ready to talk to him, it hurt her to hear those words, as if they had the power to bring her back to when she was married to Borgin. To all the pain and the sorrow he made her go through. “Yes,” she replied softly. “I did.”

Scorpius looked so tense, she wondered if he would have a headache at the end of the day. “But Blaise said that he died…”

Pansy nodded. “The day he was born,” she murmured, “I didn’t even get to hold him in my arms.”

Scorpius bit his bottom lip. “Did… did you have a stillbirth?”

Pansy opened her lips to reply to him, but had to close them again and swallow before any sound could leave her. “No,” she replied softly, “my husband killed him.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice mirroring the horror on his face.

Pansy furrowed her brow. “How much do you know about your father’s life before you were born, Scorpius?” she asked. Evidently not much. She had imagined that he would have asked his mother and his grandmother about it, or even Weasley, since he was the Auror assigned to her case when she had been arrested. But apparently, he didn’t know anything.

“I don’t know anything about him,” he replied bitterly, “my mother refused to tell me anything about his involvement with… you.”

She smiled softly. “No, of course,” she sighed, “why would she? I was just your father’s slut…” He jerked his head towards her at that word and she shrugged a shoulder. “Isn’t that what your grandmother called me?”

Scorpius flushed slightly, and Pansy had to fight the urge to pat his hand reassuringly.

“Did you love my father?” he asked all of a sudden.

This time it was Pansy who was the one who had to lower her eyes. “I don’t think you should—”

“Just answer me,” he cut her off forcefully. “Please,” he added coaxingly.

She took a sharp breath. “I did… I… I still do.”

“And did he love you?” he asked frantically.

Pansy could hear Draco’s words in her head.  _I love you, Pansy, I’ve always loved you and I will always love you._  “Yes,” she breathed, “yes, he did.”

“And what happened to the baby?” He swallowed. “What happened to my brother?”

Pansy’s eyes filled with sight-blurring tears. “I told you,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice steady, “my husband killed him.”

“But why?”

Pansy looked at him and shook her head. “He knew he was not his child,” she replied, “he was cunning, you know. Evil and cunning.”

“And my father—”

“He didn’t know,” she replied, wiping away the tears before they could roll down her cheeks, “I didn’t tell him.” She looked at the boy. “He was told after we broke up, by someone else. Someone who is dead now.” As she tried to regain a bit of steadiness in her voice, she took a deep breath. “You are an Auror, aren’t you?”

Scorpius nodded and frowned, probably without understanding what she was getting at.

“Then you can consult the file of my trial,” she explained, “it should still be under my first husband’s name – Borgin – but you can read everything about what happened.” She smiled softly. “Ronald Weasley was the Auror assigned to my case.”

Scorpius’ eyes widened in surprise. “He was?”

Pansy nodded. “Yes,” she replied, “you won’t find the fact that the baby was not my husband’s anywhere in that file, though, because the person who had killed him wanted to defend my honour.”

Scorpius seemed to be at a loss of words and gestures for he stayed perfectly still and quiet.

She sighed. That trial had been a big pile of rubbish and lies, but it would be better like that. Scorpius didn’t need to know that it had been his mother who told Borgin to kill the baby, or to torture Pansy, or to rape her. He didn’t need to know that it had been his father who killed Borgin in the dead of the night to protect her. Scorpius was such a good boy, he didn’t deserve to know the truth.

“I’m sorry if I made you cry,” he murmured unexpectedly.

Pansy furrowed her brow. “You didn’t,” she told him, surprised. She thought she had caught those tears in time.

He smiled soothingly. “My wife always says that a cup of tea cures everything, from a headache to a broken heart.”

Pansy snorted.  _Weasleys_. “Then we should go to the sunroom,” she announced instead, “I’m sure Blaise is barely keeping his hands off the biscuits.” She stood up and Scorpius stood as well.

“You should come over for dinner,” she told him as she guided him towards the sunroom. “Next week maybe? With Rose and the baby.” She smiled. “We usually have pasta on Tuesdays.”

“I love pasta,” Scorpius admitted gently as they walked into the sunroom and were greeted by Blaise’s excited cry, for they could finally have tea.

***

This time, when Astoria Malfoy was let through the gates of the Estate, Pansy was the most surprised of the two. Blaise, somehow, seemed to have expected that visit sooner or later. And Blaise’s mother was the only one who was furious.

Mrs Malfoy had not sent them a letter announcing her arrival, nor had she given them any other kind of notice. She had just Apparated in front of their gates on a Saturday afternoon as if that was the most normal thing to do for her.

Mrs Zabini didn’t think about it twice, she pushed the house-elf out of her way and went to open the door herself. Pansy looked at her from one of the sitting rooms, her heart beating slightly faster than usual.

Blaise placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to,” he whispered reassuringly.

“I know.”

Mrs Zabini placed her hands on her slim waist and looked icily at Astoria as she walked towards the entrance. “I’m afraid we didn’t receive your notice, dear,” she hissed frostily, “it must have gotten lost in the post.”

Astoria raised her chin haughtily. “I didn’t send any,” she replied firmly. “I need to talk to Mrs Zabini.”

Blaise’s mother cocked an eyebrow. “You are doing it right now, dear.”

“I meant your son’s wife,” replied Astoria coldly. “Is she here?”

Mrs Zabini crossed her arms on her chest. “I’m afraid my dear Pansy can’t be disturbed,” she replied firmly, “she is an extremely busy witch.”

Blaise turned towards Pansy and stifled a chuckle against her hair. Pansy too had to bit her bottom lip to restrain a giggle at the way Mrs Zabini talked to Astoria. It was just too good to be real.

“Why don’t you go and ask her if she can spare a minute for me?” snapped Astoria.

“Because I’m sure nothing of what you have to tell her could be of any interest for her,” she replied icily. “What are you here for anyway? Are you collecting donations for the Malfoy cause?”

“Blaise,” murmured Pansy, looking up at him with an eyebrow cocked.

“Too much?” he chuckled.

She smiled and shook her head. “Never too much when it’s Astoria,” she replied quietly, “but I’m curious to know what she’s doing here.”

Blaise nodded. He kissed Pansy’s head and walked towards the door. “Mother,” he called her, placing one of his big hands on her shoulder, “why don’t you go see if the house-elves understand that I want Yorkshire Pudding tonight? I’m afraid I was misheard.”

Mrs Zabini looked at her son and cocked her head. “Sure, darling,” she replied sweetly. She cast a sideway glance at Astoria and walked away gracefully.

Blaise turned his attention to Astoria. “You’ll have to excuse my mother,” he told her, still without showing any sign to want to let her inside, “she doesn’t particularly like unexpected guests.”

Astoria eyed him warily. “I’m here to see your wife,” she let him know, “is she in?”

Blaise moved aside and gestured for her to walk in. “Yes,” he replied, closing the door at their backs, “and she is curious to hear what you are doing here.”

When Astoria caught Pansy’s eye, she lowered her eyes quickly, as if she felt uncomfortable to stare at her. She walked to the door of the sitting room and Pansy walked inside until her back was almost touching the mantel of the fireplace. Astoria followed her and came to stand near a couch.

Blaise walked inside too. “Should I stay?”

“No,” replied Astoria urgently, raising her eyes to glance at Pansy before turning to look at him.

“I don’t keep any secrets from my husband, Astoria,” Pansy told her softly, “he knows everything about me.” Astoria turned to look at her. “And he knows everything about you,” added Pansy coldly.

Astoria looked unfazed by her admission. “Wonderful,” she replied sourly, “but I would like to talk to you alone.”

“Pansy?” asked Blaise, looking at his wife seriously.

Pansy’s eyes shifted from their guest to her husband and she smiled at him. “It’s okay, Blaise, I have my wand.”

Blaise nodded softly, he started to walk out of the sitting room, and Pansy knew that he would eavesdrop every single word that would have been said between her and Astoria through the air duct.

When the door closed, Astoria looked at her icily. “What do you think I would ever do to you that you need your wand for?” she asked bitterly.

Pansy cocked her head and nodded towards the couch for her to sit. “What a stupid question, Astoria,” she hissed, “like you haven’t done enough to me.”

Astoria had the decency to flush slightly, but when she spoke her voice was still like ice, “I am here to ask you something.”

Pansy flared her nostrils. “It looks like a lot of people are, these days,” she replied softly.

Astoria gave her a curt nod. “I want to know why you didn’t tell Scorpius about the letters,” she stated flatly, “and about Mr Borgin’s death.”

Pansy’s lips parted in surprise. Of all the things that she was expecting Astoria to say, she hadn’t anticipated  _that_  at all. She thought she was going to tell her that… No, now that Pansy thought about it, she didn’t have a clue what Astoria might have wanted from her. “What do you mean?” she asked, without understanding.

Astoria looked irritated at her. “Exactly what I meant,” she snapped, “why didn’t you tell him that I was the one who told Borgin to kill your child?”

Pansy’s face darkened as she looked away from Astoria. “Did you want me to?” she asked bitterly.

“No,” murmured Astoria, taking a sharp breath.

“Then why are you asking?” snapped Pansy heatedly.

Astoria shook her head. “Because it doesn’t make sense to me,” she replied, “I thought you hated me.”

Pansy looked at her with a soft, cold smile. “I don’t,” she confessed, “I don’t feel anything at all for you. I don’t hate you, nor love you. To me you are nothing at all.”

Astoria didn’t seem bothered by her confession. “Is that why you didn’t tell him everything? Because you don’t hate me?”

Pansy shook her head, her eyes fixed on the other woman. “No,” she admitted, “I didn’t tell him anything because that boy is Draco’s son. And the only thing that had kept Draco from taking your life when he found out what you did to me was the fact that Scorpius needed his mother.” She closed her eyes. “Had I told him about the letters, Scorpius would have hated you, and that is not what Draco wanted.”

Pansy was only happy to hear Astoria’s voice finally quivering. “How do you know?”

“I know everything about Draco,” replied Pansy, looking at her, “ _everything_.”

Astoria looked down. “But why didn’t you tell him that it was his father who killed your husband?”

Pansy shook her head. Astoria just didn’t get it and Pansy was irritated by her either real or feigned naïveté. “Scorpius loved Draco,” she murmured, “and how could I, with only one admission, destroy the idea that he had of his father?”

“He knows he was not a saint,” bit out Astoria.

“He doesn’t know he was a murderer,” Pansy reminded her more calmly than she herself would have expected.

Astoria took a deep breath. “So, you did it for Draco,” she finally reasoned.

“Did you have any doubts?” asked Pansy softly.

“No,” replied Astoria, “I just had to be sure.” Then, when she spoke again, Pansy’s jaw dropped. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Pansy took a few seconds to recover. “I said I didn’t do it for you,” she managed to breath out.

Astoria nodded. “I know,” she said softly, “but thank you for not letting my son hate me.”

Pansy looked away from those dark eyes who seemed to want to ask for her forgiveness. She couldn’t bear to look at them. She walked towards the big window that overlooked the orchard and gave Astoria her back. “I think you should go now,” she murmured, her voice feeble. “Mrs Zabini doesn’t like it when guests overstay their welcome.”

Astoria didn’t say anything in reply, but Pansy heard her soft steps on the polished floor and the door opening. She heard her voice as well as Blaise’s in the corridor, and when the main door closed she knew that Astoria was gone. She stood in front of the window and looked at the green, yellow, and crimson leaves that were flying slowly to the ground as if they were dancing in the wind, until a pair of strong arms slid on her belly and her husband hugged her from behind. He brought his face next to her and pushed his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent as he tightened his arms around her stomach.

“You are such a softie, Pansy,” he murmured against her head, “sometimes I wonder why that raggedy old hat put you in Slytherin at all.”

Pansy brought her hands over his and tilted her head without looking away from the window. “Because I asked it,” she replied softly, “it said I would make a fine Ravenclaw, but I told it I wanted to be put in the same house of that blond boy with a pale, pointy face.”

Blaise let out a groan at her admission, and she turned her head to capture his lips with hers. They kissed until they had to come up for air, and when they did, Blaise leaned his forehead against hers. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t know anything about you,” he admitted softly.

Pansy closed her eyes, but smiled at him. “You are the only person who knows everything about me, Blaise,” she reassured him, “and you will always be.”

FIN


End file.
